


Robin Hood, Before the Legend

by ShadowStrikeRaven



Series: Robin Hood, The life of a Legend [1]
Category: Robin Hood (Traditional)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowStrikeRaven/pseuds/ShadowStrikeRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How exactly did Robin Hood come to be with the outlaws? Come to be an enemy of the Sheriff of Nottingham? Come to be a legend? <br/>Who is he? Where is he from?<br/>When a talented young man joins a band of outlaws in Sherwood, none of them realise they are harbouring the Hooded Bandit. When they come to realise this, however, it is too late. Will they be able to rescue him from the Hangmans noose? Or will Robin Hood die an unborn Legend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance Encounters

A lone figure pounded through the forest. His heart was racing and sweat covered his brow as he sprinted though the dark, tangled paths of Sherwood Forest. He ran as if the servants of the devil were after him, though with a second thought, that may be considered to be truth. He could still hear the clanging of the soldiers armour, though it was at a greater length from him than it was before. He risked a gance behind him and relief filled him as he realsied that he was fast becomng close to losing his trail. His breakneck pace and the fact that he was more used to the uneven floors of the woodland had gradually turned the tide in his favour. It helped that the soldiers were garbed in heavy armour and were much larger in proportion than he was. That, coupled with the terrible fear of the "bandits of sherwood forest" meant that the soldiers were unlikely to pursue the youth too far into the forest, a fact that he had been counting upon if he were to escape their clutches. Nevetheless, their resolve was stronger than the youth had expected, and he had been hard-pressed to escape the eager hands of his pursuers. Now, at last, the soldiers seemed to be slowing, as the weight of both their armour and their fearful minds seemed to starting to weigh them down. Still, it was another two to three gut wrenching minutes before the captain of the group sounded a halt, and the soldiers began to make a slow, if not completely unwelcome, retreat. He did not stop running, however, until they were lost from sight, and even then, he only paused for a moment to catch his breath. Just as he was about to start off again, he heard a voice that was so loud, it appeared that the speaker was stood directly behind him. He spun around, dropping into a crouch, preparing to grapple with whomever it was.   
He need not have worried however, as the voice was only an echo. One of the soldiers was shouting loud enough to ensure that he would hear them.   
"Oi there, do not think yourself as having outsmarted us. You may have escaped us this day, but you are hereby an outlaw. When we catch you, and be assured, we shall, you will have a place amongst those condmned to the gallows. That is, if you survive whatever the Sherwood Bandits fit to throw at you."  
The youth heard the echoes of laughter as the soldiers retreated towards the edge of the forest, and he eventually knew himself to be alone. He did not test the luck that some higher power had seen fit to grant him, however, and took of again. Heading deeper into the depths of the forest.

Night had fallen, though the youth noticed that there was very little difference between night and day in the silence amidst the dark, dusky shadows of the forest. He was resting at the foot of an enormous oak, in a dense pile of leaves that had fallen to the ground due to the swift hand of the yearly Fall. It seemed to him that he had but closed his eyes for a moment before something awoke him. He sat up, wondering what had awoken him. As far as he was able, he could not notice any discernable difference between how the hollow had looked as he settled to rest and what it looked like now. Then again, his hunting senses twitched and he noticed a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. He rose swiftly to his feet and grabbed the nearest weapon that came to his hand, a fallen bough from the oak tree. He spun to where he had noticed the movement between the trees, but saw only still shadows and darkness. He turned back and reflexively brought the stick up to parry a blow. The outh exchanged several more blows with the fgure, before disarming him and shoving him to the ground. He looked at his attacker and was suprised to see him laughing. His voice, for it was a man, was joined by a ring of others. The youth looked around to find himself surrounded by hooded figures, and he grabbed his only weapon more tightly in his fists. 

As one, the group lowered ther hoods, revealing themselves to be a group of men, aged between, from what the youth could tell, those on the cusp of manhood and those who were of the older generation, aged about thirty. The one who had attacked him stopped laughing and got to his feet. The youth flinched and took a step back, into a more defensive stance. The young man, for he was one of the younger one in the group, held his hand out.   
"Here now, brother" he spoke, with warm tones. "Ye will nay be needing that. We have been following you for the greater part of the day, ever since you entered this fair forest followed by those devils minions." He glancd around at the others in the group. "We saw that you are indeed a gifted woodsman, to be able to traverse ths frest without harm befalling you and without making ne'e so much as a whisper. No many here could claim so much. My name is John, but this lot call me little john. And we here are the Sherwood Bandits."  
Another stepped forward from the ring of men.   
"Ere, little John, this here lad is dead on his feet. Lets leave the pomp and ceremony till the morn, eh?" He looked over at the youth, "My name is william Scarlet, but this lot know me more as Will, as you will if you wish to join our merry little band of rogues. What say you?" The youth froze in place,   
"What" he managed to ask. The men laughd again. The one who had ntroduced himself as Little John spoke up again.   
"Join us, we could use someone like you. And it's not like you're going home anytime soon." The youth thought it through. He raised his head, and looked at Will, for it was he who had first made the offer.   
"If this not be a jest, then yes, I would be glad to join the terrors of Sherwood Forest." The men laughed again at the description of them. "We're not jesting. We would like you to join us lad." This came from an older man. The youth turned to him,   
"And, if I may" he asked, "What be your name."   
"I've been here long that I nearly forget," came the reply, accompanied by a throaty chuckle, "but I am known by this lt of brigands as Much." The youth smiled.   
"Well there is not much I can say to that," he joked, "and I would be honoured to be counted amongst your number."   
This was greeted with cheers all around. Little John stepped forward,   
"Then there is but one thing left to do." The youth raised his eyebrows.   
"And what may that be?" he asked. Little John grinned,   
"Well, we can hardly get by by calling you 'Oi' or 'Here you' now can we?" he asked, smiling.  
The youth smiled at him.   
"I wish not to be known as I was, but by who I am." He paused, did he create a new name or did he rephrase that by which he was known. He grinned, and decided to simply be known without his title. He turned to the group at large. "My name is Robin."


	2. Memories...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robi has joined the outaws, but just why was he running?  
> Robin flashes back to the events that put him where he is now.

Robin opened his eyes. He sat up, stretching as he did so, and tried to shake loose the dull ache of sleep that had settles on his bones. His body was still punishing him for his flight through the woods a few days previously, and had yet to fight against the ache in his muscles and the bruises on his face and shoulder, from the beating he suffered at the hands of the soldiers. His mind flitted back to the evening, not a week past, when a simple turn of phrase had set his life on a different path.   
______________________________________________________________________________

Robin heaved a sigh as he caught sight of his home. It had been a long day of riding and hunting. Yet it was necessay lest he and the rest of his large family were to waste away and be claimed by death. To many had already been snatched away at a premature age, by either lack of food or being caught poaching, stealing or otherwise trying to aquire food and being hanged for their toubles. So many of those he considered to be his brothers... He considered the whole village as his family, as he had no true family of his own, at least, none that he spoke to or acknowledged. If it were not for the charity of the villagers, he would not have a roof over his head nor a means to get food. Using his skills at archery to shoot fresh game was the least he could do in return for such kindness. He dropped the brace of rabbits down in the kitchen of his long time friend Arthur a Bland. His wife was well known as one of the best cooks in the village and had many a night cooked and shared Robin's kills amongst the least fortunate in the village. Knews of Robins archery skills had long been bandied about between different villages and he was well known as the hooded bandit, the tormenter of the Sheriff of Nottingham. The tales of his pranks on the sheriff and his soldiers had grown wilder in the telling and he was now considered to be a virtual hero by most of the villages surrounding Nottingham, if only for the fact that they enjoyed the constant embarrassement of the officials who insisted on the strict taxes that caused such a difficult way of life for the peasant folk of Nottinghamshire. 

Robin was looking forward to the evenings meal, as the days huntng had left him weary and footsore. He was just settling down to skin the rabbits with his hunting knife when he heard a commotion at the edge of the village followed by the clatter of hooves traipsing through the village. They passed near to the cooking hut in which Robin was sat and carried on towards the centre of the village. Robin left the carcass he was skinning and wrapped the rabbit up, along with the knife and his bow-indeed, anythng that pointed to his unlawful hunting trips- and left the hut, running for the centre of the village. He arrived at the same time as the majority of the villagers, and they immediately made a pathway for him to the front of the crowd, yet another testimony to his image and the respect he commanded from the villagers. When he got to th front of the crowd, his heart juddered in his chest, then started to pound furiously. The Sheriff of Nottingham was stood on the raised platform at the centre of the village. That in itself would be cause for worry, but he was stood facing the crowd with his sword drawn. The point of it poised above Arthurs heart. "Listen up, you maggot riddled scum," he cried to the village at large, in a deep voice that made Robins spine shiver and his heart race. No mean feat, as it was already pounding like the heartbeat of a hare a few moments after a chase. "Llisten up" he continued. "See what happens to men who are caught stealing from the king himself. This traitorous swine not only got caught with evidence of his crimes, but had the gall to deny his involvement. Look here, and see the Kings justice for yourself." He shoved Arthur to the floor and raised his sword. Robins mind jumped into action. "Wait, what evidence?!" He cried. "If we are to witness this so called justice of your's Sheriff, surely we should hear how you arrived at such a conclusion as theft and treachery to our beloved king." The Sheriff obviously did not know whether Robin was being serious or was mocking him, but Robin could see n his eyes that the chance to show off his power was too much to pass up. "We were travlling through this village on a matter of great urgency to our beloved prince who, now that his beloved brother is away fighting the holy war commanded by the respect of our lord, has seen fit to concern himself with. Namely that of the Hooded Bandit." 

The Sheriff paused to let the words sink into the minds of the crowd in front of him before completing the delivery of his speech. "We were directed to the home of one Arthur a Bland, who we were to confer with, as a manner of principle, on the matter. And what were we to find? Only the self same man holding a hunting knife covered in fresh blood and the carcass of a skinned rabbit at his feet." The Sheriff smiled at the shocked expressions that crossed the villagers faces, not knowing that they were not shocked by the rabbits but rather that Arthur had been hunting, which was normally the job of Robin. "Therefore", the Sheriff concluded, "I have seen fit to sentence this thief and hunter to execution for the illegal act at which he has been caught red handed." The Sheriff smiled to himself at his own joke. He looked around, relishing the dismayed epressions of the villagers as they realised they could not argue with him. This is what he lived for, the power. He raised his sword and brought it down in an arc, the blade heading for the neck of the man at his feet. At this distance, how could he miss...


	3. Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin takes a hunting trip with Little John, but is it enough to stop his musings over the events that led him to where he is now?

Robin was broken out of his musings by Little John. In the few days since Robin had joined the small band of outlaws, John had fast become a good friend, as had Will and Much. He got on well with the others, but these three had formed a firm friendship with him. John had distracted Robin by losing his footing on a root protruding out from a steep incline. Robin stifled a smirk as he went to help disentangle John from the mess of roots and weeds he had got himself stuck in. As he helped haul John to his feet, he noticed a scar on his wrist that had previously eluded his gaze. He would not normally have remarked upon such a trivial matter, as scars were very common amongst the peasant folk of Nottinghamshire, but for the fact that the type of scars John had could only have been obtained by shackles. John was shaking the leaves from his clothing and picking the loose bits of bracken out of his hair, when he caught sight of Robins thoughtful expression. "Rob," he inquired, using the nickname that he had long since bestowed on him, "What you thinking about?" He followed Robins gaze down to the scars on his wrists, and he hastily shook the sleeve down to cove the marks. "second rule Rob," he stated, referring to the three rules that the group lived by, the first being everyone supports everyone, the second being ask no question recieve no lies and the third, play nicely. John ginned at Robins exhasperated expression. "You're not th only one with things to hide brother" he said, using the term that everyone used with each other, "Come on, lets hunt." 

As he expected, he saw Robins expression change to a joyful one as he ran off to get the bow that Will had made for him. John had been amazed, as had the othes in the group, at Robins skill with a bow. At first, the had been reluctant to give him one, as they were difficult to make and Will was the only one in the group capable of making them, but after Robin had convinced Jason, the previous top hunter in the group, to lend him the bow of someone who was unable to accompany them on the hunting trip, he had unconsciously commanded the respect of the entire group. This was mainly due to how he had managed to bring down more game than the rest of the group put together. Since then, he had taken part in virtually every hunting trip. John scowled as he spotted Jason at the edge of the camp, eying Robin with ill disguised contempt. Ever since Robin had outshone him at hunting, Jason had obviously hated him with a passion, much to the irritation of the rest of the group, who had all grown really fond of him. 

John followed Robin over to where the weapons were stored and gathered up his hunting knife and the makeshift spear he used in the place of a bow. He looked over to Robin and was not surprised to find him with his bow already strung, a quiver of arrows on his back and a constantly tapping foot that showed his irritation at Johns slow pace. Once John was equipped for the hunt, they made their way to the edge of the camp and headed off into the woods. They knew that the group would correctly assume that Robin was heading off to hunt, but Robin made sure they knew by firing an arrow into the oak tree. The group normally only arranged a hunt every other day, but they had made allowances for Robin, taking into account how it lessened the need for constant hunts as he could provide enough for at least two meals in one outing, depending on what he killed. It was only a matter of minutes before they were swallowed up by the trees, out of sight of the camp. 

About half an hour later, they were both situated at opposite sides of a small stream, where Robin knew that animals visited at rgular intervals throughout the day to drink and clean themselves. And sure enough, before long, a young buck walked sedately to the edge and scanned the aa for danger before settling down to drink. Robin thanked whatever being had seen fit to grant him luck-as in the few days since he had joined the men, he had only had the chance to shoot rabbit, squirrels and other birds- and removed an arrow from the quiver on his back, bringing it up to his bow and bringing his bow up to eye level. The entire movement took less than two seconds and he pulled his arm back to let loose the arrow. He released the arrow, with a twang, and less than a second later the buck fell to the ground. His aim had been true and the arrow protruded from the young buck's skull, showing that it had died immediately and without pain. It may be necessary to kill the animals for food, but Robin had had a respect for life ever since Arthur had first sat him down and helped him skin his first rabbit whilst giving him the same speech that his father had told him, that of how all hunters should respect the natural order of things but should not enjoy the sport of killing animals for, as he said, enjoyment of the hunt is the work of the lords and the higher classes. Arthur, Robins mind clouded over and he once again travelled back to that evening that seemed like a lifetime ago.


	4. More memories...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staight into Robin's memories of the event that turned him to an Outlaw. Did he manage to save the life of his friend?

Robin saw the blade begin to fall and reacted instinctively. In less than a second he had grabbed a knife from his boot and released it, letting it spin towards the sheriff. He knew he could not hit the Sheriff directly, so aimed for the sword. Sure enouh, a dull thump echoed as it hit the hilt of the sord, causing the direction it travelled in to change, missing Arthur by less than a hands breadth. A collective gasp went up from the villagers as the Sheriff turned to Robin, and they all subconsciously backed away to give them room. Robin stayed where he was, as a range of unidentifiable expressions crossed the Sheriff's face.

The Sheriff felt his sword swerve in his hand and tightened his hold on it, ensuring that it was not renched from his grip. Feelings of disbelief and anger coursed through him. Disbelief that such a lowly peasant would dare strike out at him, and anger that he had been shown up by the self same peasant. He turned to search for the face of the knife thrower and his eyes settled on the young lad at the front of the crowd. His first thought was that he was young, too young to have the gall to do something like that, the second thought was that the young lad looked faintly familiar. The third thought that ran through his head was that there was no way he knew this insolent young whelp and no matter his age, he would be punished. The Sheriff jumped down off of the raised platform and walked over to Robin. He could not help but be impressed by the lad's fortitude, as he neither ran nor flinched.   
"You," he said in a deep voice, relishing the fear that swelled through the villagers. Obviously they all cared for the boy, yet more proof that caring was a disadvantage. "How dare you have the gall to do this to me," he continued, "before I punish you for this insolence, tell me, Why?"

Robin looked at the man in front of him, and realisd something.  
"You know," he said in a carefree voice, "aside from the clothing, you could be one of us. I see nothing that singles you out." A hand hit the side of his face and he was thrown to the floor. Yet, he could not supress the laughter that inexplicably erupted from his mouth.  
"Why, you insolent little whelp," the Sheriff shouted, before striking out at the boy in anger. He was about to continue, about to show him why he was different, why he had been granted such power, but was halted by the sound of laughter coming from the lads mouth. "What amuses you, you..." words escaped him. The insolence, the nerve, the guts. 

Despite himself, he was impressed by the nerve of the young lad, not that it would stop him from dealing out whichever punishment he saw fit.  
Robin was still laughing as he answered the question. "I am amused because I obviously struck a chord within you, What have you to hide, Sheriff?" He said the word in a derisive tone, showing his doubt at the position and casting a shadow on his abilities. He knew that the Sheriff was a man in love only with power, and knew that such an insult would outrage him. This, he knew from experiance, would mean he made mistakes in judgement, giving him more room to manouever. He knew where this confrontation was going. The only way to save Arthur was to take responsibility for the crimes and the only way to be taken seriously was to admit who he was. It didnt mean he couldnt have fun riling the Sheriff whilst doing it. 

The Sheriff grabbed Robin by the neck of his top and literally threw him nearly the whole lenhth of the raised platform. He was once again given a eason to respect the lad as he crawled to his knees, refusing to give in. He refused to be shown up again, however, and ensured the lad's cooperation, albeit it being unwilling, by pinning him to the floor.   
"Captain," he called to one of the soldiers, enraged at the awed expressions on their faces, knowing that they were not in awe of him but rather of the boy at his feet. The captain's expession cleared as he replied,   
"Yes Sir?"   
"Get me a length of rope. Its time this disrespectful lad learns the consequences of attacking someone like me." The Sheriff turned to look at the youth he had pinned down and was forced to let go as a searing pain shot across his cheek. 

Robin fell to the floor at the edge of the platform and groaned as the wind was knocked out of him. How far had he been thrown? The entire length of the...? The thought was cut short as he caught sight of the knife he had thrown at the Sheriff. Disguising his movements, he rolled over, blocking the Sheriffs view of the knife, and grasped it, slipping it up his sleeve hilt first. He was just in time, as the point of the blade had just vanished beneath the cuff of his shirt when the Sheriff pinned him down on his back, holding his wrists together. He momentarily panicked, thinking that the blade would be discovered, but the moment passed as the Sheriff turned his head towards the group of awestruck soldiers. Big mistake, Robin thought to himself, and worked the blade free, relieved to find it long enough for what he had in mind. He whipped the blade across as the Sheriff turned back to face him and was plased to see that the pain caused the Sheriff to relinquish his grip on him. He rammed the knife into the wooden edge of the platform, trapping the Sheriffs sleeve and turned to look at the villagers.

Most wore expressions of shock and awe, and a few were smiling. However, their faces fell as they realised what these actions had meant for Robin. He refused to acknowledge their looks of sympathy and gratitude, instead turning to look at the Sheriff.   
"You accused him of hunting?" Robin asked the Sheriff. "Well, let me put your accusations to rest. It was I who hunted, I who killed the rabbits. The things Arthur was found with are mine. He didnt know, None of the villagers knew. And I will tell you something else they didnt know." He paused to let the thought sink in, and saw the Sheriffs acceptance of his confession, before revealing the one thing he knew would draw all attention away from Arthur and the other Villagers. "I am the Hooded Bandit, Sheriff. And as nice as this has been, I'm afraid I have to be going." Robin took one last look at the crowd, nodded to Arthur, in acceptance of the silent gratitude that eminated from him and ran. He ran towards the only place he knew would hold a chance of ecape for him. He ran towards the trees. He heard the Sheriff shoutng orders for the soldiers to follow him and knew that Arthurs misdeeds had been completely over-shadowed by his revelation. He grinned and ran faster, deeper into the dark tangled forest that was Sherwood.

The Sheriff saw the truth in the eyes of the youth and knew him to be telling the truth. As the lad turned and ran towards the forest, the Sheriff struggled to pull the knife free and shouted for the captain to gather his men and pursue the outlaw, for that was now what he was. He turned to the villagers. The Sherrif was unsure as to whether the confesson about the hunting was true or not, but he reasoned, he had got what he came for. He spoke to the crowd.   
"It appears that my conclusion was incorrect. My apologies." He walked over to where the men had left their horses and mounted his own with the practised air of a proffessional rider. He commanded the remaining soldiers to round up the horses and lead them to the edge of the forest path, to await the arrival of their comrades. He took one last glance to savour the fearful looks of the villagers and rode off. That was as it should be. They should fear him. And before long, the death of the hooded bandit would take away their last dregs of rebellion. Prince John would like to hear this report.

 

Robin was shook out of his memories by Little John.   
"Hey Rob," he murmured. "You okay? You were out of it there." Robin hhook his head to clear it and forced a smile.   
"Yeah, I'm good." he replied and turned to look at the young buck he had shot. "So," he said to John, starting to jog over to it. "Steak or Stew."


	5. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff and his men track the outlaws and capture a but Robin. Will the Hooded Bandit be able to thwart his adversay again? Or are his friends going to meet the noose...?

Robin was restless. He wanted to hunt, to be out in the woods in the peace and quiet, with the constant companionship of luck and nerve. On the other hand, the young buck had carried enough meat to sustain all fourteen of the men, with extra. That, added to the rabbits and squirrels that Robin shot on the return trip meant that they did not need to hunt for another day at least, and Robin did not want to hunt just for the sake of it. Thus his restlessness. And his irritation. Jason had been acting even more harshly to Robin, ever since he and Little John had returned to the camp laden down with the buck and the rabbits. He had long exhuasted all patience that the group had for his behaviour and now sat at the edge of the camp, glaring at Robin.

Robin had not let the behaviour bother him, as he was used to jealousy from men who had not his skill with a bow. It was then that he decided what the hell, and got to his feet. He did not have to hunt if he was in the woods. He made his way through the camp, asking Will, along the way, if it was okay for him to go for a walk. Will said that he saw no problem with it as long as he didnt take all day about it. Robin head out into the forest, but didnt go far from the camp. He climbed a tree and spent a while jumping from branch to branch, letting out his pent up energy. So attentive he was to his task, that he nearly lost his footing as he heard a sharp cry further out in the forest, from the general direction of the sentry post. He froze momentaily before jumping to the ground and racing back towards the camp. The camp was a blur of motion as everyone grabbed weapons and dampened fires. Once they were armed, they all set out in the direction of the cry, spreading out and moving near silently through the soft leaves and bracken of the forest floor, with only the odd snap of a twig to draw attention to them. However, Robin knew that no matter how few twigs and brambles they snapped, the sound would carry through the woods. 

With a flash of inspiration, he grabbed his bow and quiver, arranged them so that they would not impede his movement and clambered up the nearest tree. He whistled softly to John, who looked around for a few seconds before raising his eyes. He caught sight of Robin and shook his head, bemused. In response to Robins finger movements, asking if John was going to copy his route, he shook his head and shrugged, before grinning and motioning that he would stay level with Robin on the ground. An anguished cry somewhere from their right made them both flinch, and hasten towards the others. Robin leapt from branch to branch, sometimes with as much as a branch lengths leap away, yet still remained quieter than John, even though he made next to no noise at all. However others did not share their skill and several moments later, as if appearing from nowhere, the entire group, John, Much and two others,were surrounded by men. Robin could not, at first, make out who they were, and it was only the precision of their movemets and the clipped voices that gave him a hint as to what kind of operation they were running. Then he recognised one of the faces and pulled an arrow from the quiver, notching it and pulling it back to fire. For the first time he was truly worried for the lives of the outlaws. 

He was about to let an arrow fly at the soldiers, for that is who they were, but caught the subtle shake of Johns head as they were being tied up. He loosened his grip on the arrow and stored it back with the rest, before following the group through the forest, leaping from limb to limb in the canopy as silently as a shadow. He had to admire their plan. From behind, their clothing was similar to the clothing worn by the outlaws, so as they were walking through the woods, there was no reason why they would be distinguishable. He did not have to follow them for long. As they arrived at a clearing, Robin was dismayed to see nearly all of the outlaws bound and kneeling in a line. He hopped to a tree behind the outlaws, where he knew that he would be able to see the soldiers clearly. His heart nearly exploded out of his chest as he caught sight of the Sheriff. He quelled his panic, however, as logic told him that he could have no idea that Robin was here. It was only a matter of seconds after this thought crossed his mind, however, before this fragile hope and reasoning crumbled. 

"I am here," said the Sheriff, in a tone that radiated danger and fury, "For an outlaw,". Robin looked around at the men to see incredulous expressions on their faces. Little John spoke up. "Begging yer pardon sherry, but you'll have to be a tad more descriptive." The men burst out laughing at the Sheriffs face, indeed, Robin himself had to stifle a laugh, at the expression of blustering indignity, but soon fell silent as the expression turned to one of recognition and hate. "You," he spat at Little John, fury etched onto the razor lines on his face, "You may have escaped me once but you shall not do so again." He turned to face the line of outlaws. "It is not just any outlaw I seek, but one which has sparked th interest of Prince John himself. One who is worth more than all of your stinking hides put together. Where is the hooded bandit?" He looked at the expressions on the outlaws faces, and knew that they had no idea what they were talking about. "Very well then," he glared, "You are a decent enough outcome for a days work. The noose is awaiting each of you. Captain, gag them and..." He got no further as an arrow notched itself in his shoulder, and a voice called out. A voice that had hauntd him in his dreams for nearly week, though he had no idea why aside from the obvious, that he had escaped.

Robin had heard every word clearly, and was not about to let others die for his sake, epecially as they had no idea about who he was. He notchd an arrow and aimed it at the Sheriff's shoulder, knowing that if he killed him, they would be in deeper trouble than they were now, with every bounty hunter in the county after them. Though, considering what the Sheriff had just said, there already appeared to be a higher bounty on his head than before. He let the arrow fly and stood up on the branch, notching another in a smooth motion. "Hello again Sheriff," he called, "Looking for me? One Hooded Bandit at your service!" He fired two more arrows, as the Sheriff was pulling the one out of his arm, managing to sever the bonds that held John and Wills wrists together, knowing that they had knives. "Cut the ropes," he called to them, and was relieved to see them unsheath their knives and start to cut the ropes binding the others. 

Little John's head was in turmoil. Robin was the hooded bandit. His friend was the most famous hero in Nottinghamshire. The Hooded Bandit had been in the groups midst for nigh on a week and they had not realised. He felt a ripple of shock shudder through the group at the same time as something whipped past his hands. He felt the rope give and fall away, and he immediately tugged the knife out of his boots, where it had escaped the notice of the soldiers. He was already moving to unbind the other outlaws, even before he heard Robin... the Hooded Bandit... Robin call out for him to cut the ropes. Near the other end of the line, he saw Will doing the same, and saw an expression of shock on his face that must rival his own. He had managed to free three of the men, who in turn had started to release their comrades with blades that they had hidden in boots or in clothing, before the soldiers were nearly upon him. He had just enough time to revel in the stupidity of having captured over a dozen men, then simply left them to stand at the edge of the clearing, before he was fighting for his life.


	6. Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Outlaws escape the clutches of the Sheriff, thanks to the actions of Robin, but he pays for it with his freedom.

Little John shoved the last of the three guards to the ground, and looked around. Many of the men were grappling with the soldiers, but they appeared to have the upper hand. Quite probably from the element of surprise. He heard Robin shout out again. "Do not fight them overlong, get back to the woods. You know them better than these invaders." John looked around and saw that many of the men in the group were taking his advice. incapacitating the soldiers and running for the safety of the trees. Robin himself was slowly climbing down the tree, his bow firmly trained on the Sheriff, who was glaring at him with undisguised loathing. John edged around the clearing to stand below Robin, "Here," he murmered, just loud enough for Robin to hear.   
"Looks like we have a lot to talk about, Bandit." He looked up at him, to see a worried expression on Robins face.

Robin slowly made his way down the tree, never moving his aim from the Sheriff. He saw John heading his way, and sighed. They would never forgive him for putting them all in danger, he just hoped John would understand. He heard Johns words and glanced down,   
"Look," he said, "I didnt mean to put you all in danger, and I know this is my fault but I..." He didnt get any further, as Johns expression changed to one of bemusement.   
"You think we blame you for this?" He shook his head. "Well it may be your fault he came hunting, but we sure as hell aren't gonna hate you for it. You're the biggest hero in Nottinghamshire. And only seventeen to boot, eh Rob?" He grinned. "No wonder old Sherry over there is as red a a beetroot." Robin sighed in relief. John didn't hate him, or blame him. He looked down at John momentarily.   
"Sherry," he asked. "Looks like i'm not the only one who has secrets." His grin was replaced by a look of horror as a sword blade protruded from John's side. A look that was mirrored on Johns face as he was grabbed from behind and pinned down. 

Robins mind went into a frenzy, and in the few seconds it took him to formulate a plan, John had been dragged further away. He let loose the arrow, once again pinning the Sheriff down, but this time, it would take longer for him to pull loose, as the arrow was embedded fuher into the tree. He looked just once to make sure that he had struck his target and plucked another arrow from his quiver, letting it fly. It skimmed past Johns face, drawing blood, but hit the target. The stomach of the soldier pinning him down. He then fired three more arrows, into the legs of the soldiers before jumping to the ground and running over to John. He was relieved to see that the sword had only skimmed his skin, but the gash was fairly deep. However, there was no way he would be able to walk unaided, especially as he had twisted his ankle when the soldiers dagged him down. Robin glanced around the clearing, and saw that hardly any of the men were left, he saw only Jason and a few others who were disappearing into the trees.   
"Jason" he cried. "Help John". He saw Jason's eyes take in the scene, and saw him evaluating the risk, knowing what he was going to do before he did it. "No, Jason!" he cried, "Help me" but it was all in vain. Robin glared at his retreating form, and turned to John. He might not be able to help him walk far, but the soldiers weren't about to follow him, they were all on the floor, in varying stages of pain. The only real risk was the Sheriff, but he saw that the arrow had in fact cut into the chainmail on his shouders. Thanking the heavens for the lucky shot, he hauled John to his feet, and settled his arm over his shoulder. Thus they started to stumble towards the cover of the trees. They had only taken a few steps, when Robin heard someone behind them. He grabbed Johns knife, preparing to attack whoever it was, but was relieved to see Will.   
"Thank god," he said to the slightly taller and broader man, "I couldn't carry him far on my own. I asked Jason but..."

"I know," Will interrupted, a screen of hate and contemt clouded his eyes"I saw. You can rest assured, I wont let him get away with abandoning the both of you. I..." He was cut off by a sound behind them, and turnd to find the Sheriff tugging the arrow from his chainmail. Robin shoved John to Will.   
"Take him, you can help him. I'll distract the Sheriff." Will took Johns other arm,   
"But..." they both said in unison,   
"Robin you...",   
"He'll catch..."   
Robin shoved them towards the forest.   
"If we all stay together, we all get caught. This way, you two have a chance." He looked at the dismayed expressions on their faces, and saw the reluctant acceptance of his words. "Go, now." They both turned and headed towards the edge of the clearing, glancing back as they reachd the trees, to see Robin circling the Sheriff, insulting him. They watched as the Sheriff as he chased Robin though the trees. Heard Robin shout, "Dont just stand there! Will, John, Run!" They heeded his words and disappeared into the trees, heading for the previously agreed rendezvous point. 

Robin danced around the Sheriff, taunting him.   
"Come on then Sherry. What is that all about then Sherry? Whats with the name." He saw the Sherff eyes flicker between him and the two outlaws heading out of the clearing. "Come now Sherry, are you so much of a coward that you would run after a wounded man, but not chase the one you know you can't catch?" He saw the insult reverberate around the Sheriff's head and knew that he had hit a nerve. "Is that what you have to hide? That you are a coward?"   
He had a moments notice, just the twitch of a boot, to start running. He glanced aound at where he last saw Will and John and was dismayed to find them still standing there. They disappeared from his line of sight and he dared not stop, instead he cried,   
"Dont just stand there, Will, John... Run!"   
Focusing more on his friends, he missed his footing, stumbling over a root and falling to the floor. He immediately hoisted himself to his feet and started running again, but he knew that he had lost his head start. He would be hard pressed to escape the Sheriff now. Never the less, he pounded through the forest, not paying any heed to the scurryings of creatures around him, to the sound of the birds, he was not the hunter, he was the hunted. Robin ran, but realised that for all the Shriffs size and the weight of his armour, he was fast. Too fast. Robin knew that he would not be able to outrun him so turned and stood his ground. He pulled the knife from his belt, and prepared to grapple with the Sheriff. He may be going down, but by god, he was going to give the Sheriff something to remember him by.

The Sheriff stopped only a few feet from Robin, glaring at the youth. He may respect the guts of the young man, but he was damned if he was going to acknowledge it. However, he did tread cautiously, knowing that if Robin threw the knife, it would hit its target... unless... He never normally faced an opponent with intent to use trickery, but then again, an outlaw demanded no courtesy, so why not. He took a step towards Robin, shifting his weight to one foot, puttng his sword at the angle he needed.   
"Come on then boy, show me what you got." he said, in a taunting voice. Pleased when Robin lifted the knife to throw it.

Robin's heart sank. The Sheriff had a plan. He didn't know what was, but he had one. And that meant Robin had lost. He knew that the knife would never reach his target, but all the same, he knew he woud throw it, if only to spite the Sheriff. He changed the angle of the blade and let it fly. It caught the Sheriff's cheek, leaving a bloody gash that Robin knew would scar. He only had time to reflect that the Shriff would have something to remember him by after all, before a searing pain made him cry out in agony, before falling to the floor, and slipping into a dark world of pain and fire.

The Sheriff moved to dodge the knfe, but the angle of it meant that it caught his face. He felt a searing burn flare across his cheek, but still managed to swing his sword in the intended direction. He felt a suge of satisfaction as the blade sliced into Robins side, making him cry out and fall to the floor, unconscious and with blood pouring from the wound. Finally, the Hooded Bandit would hang.

Will was half supporting, half carrying John, and they were making slow progress. He had to accept that Robin was right. Without the diversion, they never would have escaped. They had got far enough away to begin thinking that Robin had actually evaded the Sheriff, even though they knew it was stupid to get their hopes up. Sure enough, that hope was dashed as they heard a strangled cry echo through the forest. John stopped,, trying to pull away from Will, but Will held him in place, wincing at the strain of it.   
"Le' me go, we have to help him. We have to... " Will cut him off,   
"We cant John, he's too far away. We cant." He heard John fail to hold back a strangled sob, and felt tears pricking his own eyes. He knelt to face John, "We'll get him back. John, do you hear me. I promise you, no matter what it takes, we'll get him back." He felt the conviction in his words, and realised he meant it. Even if it was just the two of them, they would get him back.


	7. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin is held in the ungeons, where the Sheriff is asking strange questions. Why does he need to know about Robins family?  
> Whilst Robin is suffering this and the effects of his woud, the Outlaws are planning a breakout...

Robin groaned and opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his side. He glanced down and saw, to his relief, that it was not bleeding, though he knew that if he didnt get it treated soon, infection would set in. He tried to stretch, but couldnt move. He glanced up at his wrists and found the cause. Thick iron shackles covered his wrists, attatched to the wall by iron chains. He knew it was useless to pull against them, but couldnt help giving an involuntary tug to make sure of what he already knew. He needed to make a plan... needed to get out of here. Maybe.. Maybe he could... His thoughts were cut short as a sharp pain racked his body, seeming to emanate from his side. He knew he had to stay awake, but the darkness that threatened to cloak him was so inviting... so welcoming... and he was so tired... Robins eyes closed, and his head fell back against the wall, as the pain made him fall, yet again, into a dreamess, pain fueled slumber.

John kicked out at the roots of the oak tree in frustration. It had taken him and Will until the sun had set beyond the skies edge to reach the rendezvous point, where they had wasted no time in informing their fellows of what had happened. They told them of Jasons cowardice, culminating in his expulsion from the group. If only for the fact that he broke one of the rules. They told the group of Robin's bravery and of his capture. They had not let anyone rest until they had agreed to help free Robin, and although they hastily agreed, John could see in their eyes that they believed they would fail. He refused to give in to such thoughts, and had spent every hour the next day with the other men, planning how they would get him out, and preparing for the task. Several men had gone hunting, and had taken several hours to return. Even then, John could not help comparing their meagre catch to what Robin could have hunted in the same amount of time. Now that he thought about it, the camp did not seem as lively without him. He had joined them no longer than a week ago, yet he had insinuated himself into their lives as assuredly as if he had been their for years. He knew that the other men felt his loss too, but none so much as him and Will. The three of them had become fast friends since Robins arrival, though he had been friends with Will for months before Robins arrival. Robin seemed to have bought them closer.

Therin lay his frustration. They had planned to stage their plan on Robins inevitable execution day, meaning it would be easier to get him and get out. They planned to hide in plain sight, in the crowds, as it was not uncommon for people to wear hoods in the crowd. The plan was simple but would no doubt be effective, even if it was incredibly risky. If they managed to close the gates before they got out... No. He would not think such thoughts. The plan would work. It had to.   
Even if he would not be joining them.   
He had argued for ages with the men, saying that his ankle would be fine by the time the day came, that he needed to be there. They wouldnt agree. They thought it would be dangerous, as it was well known that an ankle as badly twisted as his would be easy to damage again. They had told him he had to stay, and they meant it. He had pretended to reluctantly go along with it, whilst all along knowing he would make his own plans, and be in that courtyard. If everything went to plan, he would not be needed, but if somethng went wrong, he would be ready. The men had realised that John wanted to help and so had told him to accompany Will to find out the day that the execution was set for, so he was sat waiting for Will to grab his weapons and generally get ready to leave.

It seemed like forever, but it was, in reality, just a few more minutes before they were both on their way. When they were safely out of earshot, John informed Will of his plan to which Will reluctantly agreed, promising not to tell the rest of the men. John could tell that his reluctance stemmed from his longing to keep John out of harms way, and to be at his back if needed. However, he also knew how much it would hurt John to be unable to help Robin, so he had ageed to it. They walked for just over n hour, until the sun had nearly reached its peak in the sky, before they came to the edge of the forest. It was their that they separated. Will to find the information that the group sought, and John heading in the direction of where the Hooded Bandit was said to live, a small village near to his own home, Loxley.

Robin had been awake for only a few minutes, when he heard keys jangle in the lock to his cell. He grimaced as the Sheriff walked into his cell.   
"Ah, good. You're awake. I just wished to nform you that your execution has been set for two days hence." He looked at Robin with a calculating look on his face that Robin was unable to explain.   
"What do you want?" Robin asked, pleased at the tone in his voice, one of sneering indifference, "You caught the Hooded Bandit, and you have told me all that I care to hear. What else do you need from me?" He saw the Shriffs expession clear as he made a decision.   
"One thing," he said, in a strange, questioning tone of voice. "What was the name of your father?" Robin started, of all the things he had expected, that was far from his mind. Why would the Sheriff care. It was with caution that he replied,   
"Robert". He could not explain the shocked expression that crossed the Sheriffs face, before he hid it behind a blank facade, nor the following question,   
"Where was he from?" He could only answer, as he saw not what the Sheriff could gain from it.   
"Loxley." He got irritated as the same expression crossed the Sheriffs face, coupled with a look of reluctant acceptance, and continued. "As was my grandfather, who, to the best of my knowledge, also had the name Robert. As to my fathers current wherabouts, It is my belief that he died during the holy crusade led by our monarch, Richard the Lionheat. Does this information please you Sheriff? Is there anything else you require?"

He was not prepared for the look of recognition that crossed the Sheriffs face as he looked down at him, nor the soft spoken reply,   
"Nay lad, on both counts. Though I am not at all surprised. Only one other I knew had such contempt for those with authority". He was also unprepared, though relieved, when the Sheriff turned and left the cell, locking it behind him and heading back the way he came, leaving Robin to think upon all that had just happened and trying to puzzle out the Sheriffs reactions.


	8. A Legend Is Born...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Outlaws attempt to rescue Robin, Not ralising that Little John is there with a band of Men from Loxley. Together, can they get Robin safely away? Especially after John is recognised...

The camp was lit up with a pale pre-dawn light, and yet the men were already armed and ready for the task ahead. Robins execution was set for midday, but their plan meant that they had to be in place before then, to assure their positions. Even now, it would take the better part of the morning to reach Nottingham, even taking the shortcut though Sherwood. John sat and watched as the man filed out of the camp, leaving him behind with those who also had no part in the plan. He glared at the others in the camp, letting them see his frustration, before eventually getting up and grabbing a knife. He stormed across the camp into the woods, shouting about a hunting trip, and knew that the men would be glad to see him go. He grinned to himself. Stage one of his plan completed. Now he wouldnt have to worry about the men, knowing that they would not expect him back for the better part of the day. He laughed out loud to himself, and set off towards the village he visited the other day, ready to get the rest of his plan in motion.

Robin grimacd at the ache in his head. The pain in his side had become a constant companion, and as such, he rarely noticed it, aside fom sharp bursts when he twisted strangely. His arms, too, were aching from the position that they had held for the better part of the past few days, aside from when he was given food and water. None the less, he savoured every moment of it, knowing that he had not long left to do so. He had accepted that he was going to die, and found a strange comfort in the fact that he could not prevent it. He aso found comfort in that his capture had helped his best friends, and had caused yet another problem for the Sheriff. He had long since given up on trying to decipher his words or actions during the brief visit he made. Robin sighed, and glanced up at the tiny sliver of daylight, visible from a small barred window at the top of his cell. He noticed the slight change in colour and realised that it meant dawn had arrived. He shook his head, trying to clear it, he had had a constant headache since he first woke up in the cell, and had figured out that it was from a knock he had taken to the head. None the less, it was unsettling as it had dulled his thoughts and senses considerably. The fact that he was a hunter and he relied upon his senses made this even more unsettling for him and wanted more than anything to clear the dullness in his limbs, though he knew that it was unlikely to happen. He looked up at the light streaming in, and resisted the urge to shield his eyes. He would make the most of the time he had left and damn the consequences,

John arrived at the village and was welcomed by a flurry of activity. His plan was simple. Get a group of men together and get to Nottingham. Just to keep an eye on thing and to lend a hand if need be. He looked around at the seven men accompanying him and grinned. Make that several hands. He only wanted a few men, and had had to turn down many of the volunteers. The less men they had, the less chance of discovery there was. He accepted the bow and quiver of arrows that he was handed, and put on the floor length, brown cloak they gave him, stashing the bow beneath it and happily discovering that it easily concealed the knife at his waist. Though it was not uncommon for men to carry them, he did not want to draw any attention. The other men were likewise dressed and armed, though only Arthur carried a bow. John had discovered most of Robins story and how he came to be in Sherwood Forest, so was happy to be accompanied by what was obviously one of Robins lifelong friends, though he could tell that he had been loved and respected by the entire village. He grinned to himself. Not bad for someone who had only just reached manhood. He asked if they were ready and was met with nods, yes' and other affirmatives. He set off out of the village, towards Nottingham, sure in the knowledge that his plan was going perfectly, and that he and Robin would be laughing under the oak in Sherwood by sundown.

It was nigh on noon, and John was settled in a position near to the scaffold. He had regularly been checking on the positions of the men with him for the last half an hour. He once again scanned the crowd, before turning to face the scaffold again, secure in the knowledge that they were in position. He looked at the figures stood next to the steps and froze, as one person met his eyes.   
"Damn it to high heaven" John cursed, panicked, as the figure started to walk towards him.   
"Hello there lad," the man said. "You are the last person I expected to see. After all, outlaws normally avoid huge crowds." John stared at the man he had known since childhood, and relief swept through him as he gave a rumbling laugh. "Ya need not worry, my son, the lord does not call upon me to administer undeserved justice, now tell me, why are you here." John let out a breath he did not know he had been holding, and motioned to the men with him that all was fine, watching as they settled back into their positions. He marveled for a second at how they had been so willing to come to his aid, and the speed at which they had done so. He turned back to the man and smiled.   
"Hello friar Tuck" he said, using the name by which he was often known.   
"Now lad, ya nay be needing to be so formal. Whatever happened to te young boy who called me tucky?" John blushed slightly at this, before his face took on a serious expression.   
"I grew up, friar." John looked around, and noticed that the guards seemed to be taking an interest in them. He hastily told the Friar of why they were here. "So friar, I ask you to keep my presence a secret, for not only my safety rests upon this, but also that of many others, who would feel honour bound to come to my aid." 

He looked at the friar, waiting for his reaction. He may have been willing to keep Johns presence a secret, but that of countless others, he could not be sure. He need not have worried, however, as the friar replied.   
"John, I have seen many false judgements occur within this land, and many punishments have I seen that were undeserved. You need not worry that I wil betray your secret, in fact, I have a mind to help you in this venture of yours. I see little enough excitement as it is." He seemed to think things through for a few seconds. "Lad. If it be agreeable to you, I will tell this friend of yours that you are here, and to be prepared for trouble. Though I am sure he feels he is in trouble as it is. After all, I do have the ability to administer the last rites, which are often done upon the scaffold." John could not believe his ears.   
"But friar, if you are caught, if they associate you with us... They are already suspiscious of why one such as you is talking to me. They have been looking at us in a manner of interest for some time." The friar smiled and patted John on the shoulder.   
"Then I had best be off. And you need not worry John, the lord is with those who fight for a just cause. This, as I see it, is one such cause to fight for. Things will work out."   
He started to make his way back to the scaffold, talking to one of the guards as he arrived. John was relieved to see their faces lose the suspiscion they had been harbouring and only give him a cursory glance before settling into their positions. John barely had time to sigh in relief and motion to the other men that he was fine before the drums began beating.

Robin knew that the crowds would have been growing, and resolved to show no weakness to the people to whom he had become a hero, showing defiance to the Sheriff until the last moment. This, coupled with the acceptance of his coming ordeal gave him the strength to stand on his own when the shackles were removed. The pain that racked his body nearly made him stumble, but he snarled at the guard who tried to touch him and took tentative steps, pleased to find that his legs could support him. His hands were bound and he was led up through the twisted corridors of the dungeons. Just before the doors opened to the courtyard, he caught sight of his reflection in a full length mirror. He did not recognise the person he saw, the young man with defiance in his eyes and apparent through every inch of his body. The bloody shirt he wore, showing his injuries, along with the slight limp showed how much pain he was in, and yet he refused to bow to it. The indifferance on his face, the dirt on his skin. He looked like a survivor, a man. Someone who was worthy of the title Hooded Bandit. Someone who was worthy of being called a hero. He straighted his pose, ignoring the pain, and turned to face the daylight as the doors opened. He was not aware of much during the walk to the scaffold, only focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other. The short climb nearly sapped him of his strength and will, so much was the agony from his aching body, but he managed it. He managed it and stood up straight. He saw the awed expressions on peoples faces, the respect, the sorrow. He ignored those from Nottingham, focusing on the villagers, the peasants, those who knew him an respected him. He saw his defiance reflected onto them, and a sense of pride washed over him. He was barely a man, but he had done this. He turned towards the friar stood to his left and had to work hard not to look surprised as he heard what the man said.   
"Be ready, the men are here." He turned to the friar, shock in his eyes, and just managed to catch his last words, "John was right, you are special." 

Robin fought to keep his expression unchanged. John? The men? They would risk this? For him. The thoughts swirled around in his head, and he once again cursed the dullness of his mind. He needed to think straight. He had no time left to think on this, however, as the hangman lifted a noose to tie around his neck. He never managed it. Robin heard a familiar twang and saw the executioner fall to the floor, grasping his leg, coverd in blood with an arrow protruding from it. The four guards at the foot of the scaffold followed moments after and all hell broke loose. Screams rent the air and Robin felt his wrists being freed. He turned to find Will stood behind him.   
"John has a bow for you," he shouted hurriedly, "He is with others from your village, but the rest of the men don't know he's here. I'll give you the details later." He looked at Robin's injuries. "Time for us to save you, eh brother?"   
He grinned and swung to intercept a guard that had reached the scaffold. Robin heard his name being called and stumbled towards the edge of the patform to where John was waiting. He took the bow and jumped down to the ground, crying out in pain as agony ripped his side. He looked down to see that it had begun to bleed again, and looked at John in despair.   
"I cant fight like this," he told John, "but I can shoot." He felt hands grab him and turned to find himself face to face with Arthur.   
"No way," John told him, "We didnt go through all this to see you die from blood loss." He turned to Arthur and the two men next to him. "Take him." he said, and ran to support Will, who was fighting two guards with a sword he had stolen from one of the guards who had been shot. Robin only had time to see him stoop to grab a sword from another fallen guard before Arthur started to help him away. They reached the edge of the courtyard with little trouble, but by then, the place was empty aside for the guards and the men. He turned to Arthur.   
"They need help, they are outnumbered." He saw the determination in Arthurs eyes and knew that he had to convince him. "Arthur, We cant get away, we'll get caught with me this slow. I can shoot, you know I can. I can help." He saw Arthurs resolve waver and pressed on. "Arthur, they're my friends." He head Arthur groan and knew he had won. Arthur told the other two men to help and helped Robin to a stack of crates. After making sure he was okay to stand, he ran off to join the fight, leaving Robin to his own work. 

Robin took an arrow from the quiver John had given him, and was momentarily worried that his aim would be off, but he need not have feared. The moment he notched the arrow, his head cleared and he felt the dullness in his mind seep away. He fired the first arrow and saw a guard fall. He fired again... and again... and again. Whenever he fired a guard fell. Their numbers quickly diminished. By the time they had realised who the real threat was, the men had the upper hand and had nearly reached the entrance. Robin reached for another arrow and was dismayed to find that he had only three left. He fired one, hitting a guard that was just about to stab one of the men in the gut, and was just about to fire another before he felt a hand tug on his shirt. He spun around, preparing to fire, but was relieved to find Will looking up at him. He flinched as Robin span but let out a small sigh as he lowered the bow.   
"Come on, time to go." Robin jumped down, and nearly collapsed as another burst of pain racked his body. Will, however, caught him before he reached the ground and helped him make his way over to the entrance to the courtyard. He realised that the men had finally reached the entrance and were waiting for him. They had just begun to pass beneath the arch when the gate began to fall. Robin realised that a few of the men had been situated on the wall and had pulled the lever to close the gate when the men were near enough to pass under it. Nearly all of them had passed beneath the arch, though Robin could see that many of them had injuries and some were being nearly carried by their comrades. John was one of the last to pass through, but was hindered by one of the guards. He soon fought him off, leaving Robin wondering where he had learned to use a sword, and ducked under the gate, just missing the sharp metal points on the bottom. Robin saw several guards running for the gate house, obviously intending to open it.   
"Get back" he shouted to the men on the wall, who immediately saw the danger and used a rope to slide to the ground, using thick gloves to avoid burns. They had just reached the ground when the guards reached the rope. Robin told Will to let go and pulled another arrow from the quiver, letting it fly and severing the rope so no guards could follow. 

The men took off, through the streets of Nottingham. Several grabbed horses from the stables, helping their injured comrades to ride. No-one stopped them and they made it to the entrance of Nottingham in a matter of minutes. Will and John had helped Robin onto a horse and had mounted their own, riding swiftly through the town. Robin had stopped to grab a piece of parchment and had quickly scrawled something on it, not telling Will or John what it said. They had just crossed the bridge when they heard a clatter of hooves, and saw several guards mounted on horses, accompanied by the Sheriff. They had nearly reached the bridge and Robin grabbed the last arrow in his quiver. He jammed on the scrap of parchment and let it fly. Severing one of the ropes holding the bridge together. He was pleased to see the men stop, worried as to what he had done and unwilling to follow. He urged his horse on, and before long they had reached the edge of Sherwood. Keeping to the well worn tracks, they rode the horses to a clearing befor getting off and guiding them to a little known stream, where they could rest safely. Robin reached a tree and collapsd against it, gasping in pain as the adrenalin in his body wore off. In reply to what he had written on the parchment, he only said, "The Sheriffs Nightmare."

The Sheriff was livid. Robin had done nothing to damage the bridge, only play on their fears. He read the scrap of parchment once more.   
"Hello Sheriff, Happy Hunting. Robin of the Hood".   
He scowled and scrunched it up, throwing it to the floor. Robin Hood it was.

Dusk had fallen over the city when a young child picked up the scrap and took it to his father. He read it and laughed, passing it on to his neighbour, and thus the city. Before long, everyone would know of the outlaw, the hero. Robin Hood.


End file.
